


What The Gods Give, The Gods Take Away

by havenborn (sinistra_blache)



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Collared Gladio, Dom/sub, M/M, Sub Gladio, but real talk when does that ever matter in this universe, dom Noctis, ffxv-kinkmeme fill, introspective, wherein Gladio gets everything he's ever wanted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2019-03-12 21:45:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13556205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinistra_blache/pseuds/havenborn
Summary: It wasn’t the usual way relationships started.They didn’t care.





	What The Gods Give, The Gods Take Away

The crush on Prince Noctis came on slow and surprising but stuck around until it could no longer be called a crush. Gladio knew the second it became more than that.

Noctis sat with him while he got his tattoo. Every day that he went in to continue the symbol on his body, Noctis was right there with him. It was expected of Gladio to be dedicated to the crown and, even when he hated the Prince, he considered himself as dedicated as one person could be. 

But no-one ever talked about the dedication from the Royals to their Shields. 

Gladio had a lot of time to think while he was getting tattooed. When Noctis sucked his teeth in sympathy on the sore spots, when he took Gladio’s hand without prompting, when he petted Gladio’s hair as he shook through the pain, all Gladio thought of was dedication and what that really meant. 

“You’ve already sworn yourself, son,” his father told him when he asked for more. “The mark is on you, no-one could question your loyalty.”

“That’s not what I’m asking.” 

“I know.” Clarus regarded his son for a moment, then shook his head. “There’s another ritual. Less physically demanding than the one you just went through, but a little more serious.” 

“Did you go through with it?”

“For Regis? No.” His father chuckled a little. “Mors would have killed us, truth be told. That being said, the King and I are not blind. You have my blessing to at least do some research. I’ll talk to Regis. You should talk to the Prince.” 

“I don’t know what to say.” 

“You’ll figure it out.”

—

It wasn’t the usual way relationships started. 

They didn’t care.

—

No-one official had to be there for the ritual he and Noctis went through. They chose Ignis to be the witness since it was stupid not to include him. He even admitted to thinking about it himself when he found out about it. 

All they needed were themselves and a trinket. They both worked hard at deciding on what it could be. They joked, awkwardly, about a big dog collar. Then, one day, Noctis took out a necklace from his desk in his room. 

“It’s really old,” he said. He couldn’t really look Gladio in the eyes but that was okay. He wanted it as badly as Gladio did, he just wasn’t as intense about it. It had taken Gladio a long time to figure out that about the Prince. “Shields used to wear them. Specs found it. I think it’s alright.” 

“A necklace, huh,” Gladio said, reaching to touch the cross. There were skulls in it because of course there were. It was official, no doubt about that. “I guess no-one will guess what it is. Not unless they know what they’re looking for.” 

“Don’t want to hide anything, but it’d look good on you,” Noctis said, like that was important. Maybe it was important to him. That was good enough for Gladio. 

“I like it.” 

“Good. So do I.” 

And that was it. For something so important to them both, it should have been grander. In the back of Gladio’s mind, for the rest of his life, he wished that it was more of a spectacle. 

He swore his body to his king when he got the tattoo. He swore his mind and heart to Noctis as soon as the clasp on the necklace was closed. 

—

“Niflheim demands a marriage,” Ignis said. “I’m sure King Regis and Prince Noctis will tell you. I wanted to give you a chance to process it before they did so.”

It didn’t matter how old he got, Gladio always got stupid when he was angry or hurt. Sometimes it felt like he was watching himself from afar when it got really bad. When Ignis first told him about the treaty, he was in a different place. He was powerless to stop himself from talking. 

“What the hell gives you the right to decide what’s good for me, Iggy?” Gladio growled, even though he knew that Ignis was just doing this to make sure the King himself didn’t have to see Gladio’s rage when he got the news. “One person gets to decide that. Have you forgotten that?”

“I have not, Gladiolus. You know that I haven’t.” 

“Fuck you, then.” 

Ignis, damn him, never seemed to feel anything at the best of times. He had never reacted with so much as a blink to Gladio’s anger. This was no different. He just took a breath, nodded, and got up to leave. “I will be available after work if you wish to talk.” 

“I don’t give a shit.” 

“You were never going to be the only love of his life, Gladio,” Ignis said. It wasn't unkind; it was another truth he had to deliver, and Gladio hated it. None of them had actually said that out loud before, no matter how true it was. That was how things were in the Citadel. 

So long as they didn’t say anything, the King wasn’t dying. If they just ignored it then they could pretend that they weren’t losing the war. 

Just look the other way. Gladio and Noctis could keep going as they had since they were teenagers and no-one would stop them. 

—

“Luna is cool,” Noctis said later on the same day. Ignis had already packed his bags for their road trip to Altissia. “She’ll understand. You’re not going anywhere, you know?”

“Things are gonna change, Noct,” Gladio answered. He’d calmed down but he was no happier. “We have to be ready for that. It’s a damned political wedding. There are certain things people are going to want to see. A big wedding, happy faces. Babies.” 

“Shut up,” Noct whined, flopping back on his bed. “I don’t want to think about babies. This is about peace. Luna gets that, believe me.” 

“Good for her.” 

—

The fall of Insomnia was the first time that Gladio saw Noctis so angry. Grief did weird things to people, he guessed. Noctis got mad, brought them all back from Galdin to see the destruction for himself, spat words of revenge. 

Gladio never thought that he would get through the war unscathed but, like an idiot, he never thought he would have to do it all without his father. It should have hurt more. He should have been on the same angry wavelength as Noct, but as soon as he knew that Iris was okay then nothing else mattered but doing what Noct wanted. 

It was like he wasn’t even there. He was present only so long as Noct was giving orders. Later on, when he told Ignis about it, he used the word ‘disassociating’. But he was wrong. 

Noctis needed to direct him. Gladio needed to be directed. They were each other’s anchors in the middle of a storm of loss. 

—

Once, Prompto came into the hotel room and saw Gladio tied to the bed with Noctis riding him. Gladio wasn’t allowed to speak, wasn’t allowed to tell Prompto to get the hell out. All Noctis did was grind down with a lazy look at Prompto, who left blushing. It was probably one of the hottest things Gladio had ever been a part of. 

Ignis found a pair of daggers and gave them to Noct. They were supposed to be used for battle but instead, Noct christened the blades by tracing the outline of Gladio’s tattoo over the course of hours in the tent, somewhere in the middle of Leide. 

They spent an evening in Lestallum, getting take-out from all the different restaurants and bringing it back to the hotel room. Gladio sat at Noct’s feet and ate from his fingers right in front of the others. Gladio had never felt more comfortable in his skin. 

They were still on their way to a wedding. They were still in the middle of a war. But between the battles and the fishing and the searching for ancient weapons and the talking to the gods themselves, they found time to be together. 

—

Everything broke apart in the end. They should have known that it was going to be a shitshow when they found out how strong the Empire’s presence was in the city. They should have known it was all going to fall to pieces straight away. 

They should have had a different plan. Gladio should have been able to protect Noctis, Ignis, even Luna. He should have seen it all coming, somehow. Everything seemed so clear in hindsight. Everything seemed like a sign of things to come. 

He blamed himself for thinking every single unkind thought about Luna and the wedding. He blamed himself for being too weak and too slow and too human to be in five places at once.

He hated the way grief looked on Noct after Altissia. It was uncertain. It wasn’t angry like before. It was defeated and distant. He tried to goad his Prince into action but it just made things worse. 

It all broke apart in his hands so quickly, and he never got a chance to put it back together. 

—

He and Iris had started a tradition of drinking Holly’s moonshine every second weekend. Go over their hunts and discuss Cor’s training methods. He read enough to think that he had a varied vocabulary but he never could find the right words to tell Iris how proud he was of her. This would have to do. 

They were talking about the Chosen King’s return. It always came down to this. 

“It’s been nine years,” Gladio said. The moonshine burned on the way down and made his voice rougher than it already was. Iris wrinkled her nose at him. “There has to come a time when we accept that this might be it. We might have to move on.” 

“Yeah, okay,” Iris replied, obviously unconvinced. “I guess that’s why you’re still wearing that necklace. Because you’ve moved on.” 

Gladio played with the cord but was unable to bring himself to touch the metal of the cross. It felt like Noct should be there to tug on it, to tell him to stop sulking, to tell him what he should do. He was adrift.

“I have a girlfriend,” he remembered to argue but Iris’ expression made it clear that his protest came too late to count. 

“And I bet she thinks that’s just a necklace.” 

—

It all got very real when they suit up to go back into Insomnia. All in uniform; Prompto looking uncomfortable with wearing long sleeves, Ignis looking like he was poured into his clothes as always, Gladio finally feeling like himself again after ten long years of nothing. 

Noctis shrugged on a cape and, instead of making a face at the drama of it all, he looked calm. He looked like a king. 

Gladio knelt without a word, without a command, to help Noctis with his knee brace. It was all they got before they left for the city, barely a word spoken. 

Gladio didn’t get a chance to say he was sorry for everything he’d said before Noctis was taken away. He didn’t get a chance to atone for his lack of faith during the years of darkness. He didn’t get a chance to tell Noctis how deeply proud he was of him for returning, for facing his fate, for being the king he was always meant to be. He never got a chance to tell his king how honored he was to be by his side. 

“Any regrets?” Noctis prompted, taking Gladio’s chin for a moment and making him look him in the eyes. Giving him a chance. 

“None, Your Majesty,” Gladio replied. 

Noctis bent over, pressing his forehead to Gladio’s with his eyes closed. One hand rested on the back of Gladio’s neck and the other on his chest, over the metal cross that hung on the necklace. 

“Me neither.”

**Author's Note:**

> Original prompt: https://ffxv-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/4113.html?thread=7069457#cmt7069457


End file.
